


Fire with Fire

by orphan_account



Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multi, Underage Drinking, but only sort of, im sorry, out of character Marco, the OCs are pretty much just plot tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-02 01:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5227880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been a long couple of months for Marco. Long, embarrassing months of hoping, waiting, and eventually wilting with disappointment. Marco Diaz was sick of it. He was sick of being nobody to anyone, and he figured he always had been. Tom was just the wake up call.</p><p>This fic is super extra dead :(</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Said You Were Into Me

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if my writing is mad awful. I don't have time to proofread or edit and I really don't want to lose this motivation to write.  
> I used superlatives a lot, which I kind of felt were more in Marco's voice, sorry if that's not your jam.  
> Also this fic kind of has a few song references in it, but they're not necessary information.

Tom had shown up at Marco and Star’s school one day, innocuously, like it was nothing. Like his dad had enrolled him. Which, it turns out, he had. It had been so awkward at first, and Marco had felt like a third wheel. Though Star and Tom didn’t get along, they still knew each other, and while Marco thought he knew Star well, some things that Tom knew made him feel like he knew her less. It was okay though, Tom wasn’t being creepy for once. He was being himself, not what Star wanted him to be and not what he wanted himself to be. He was acting as normally as a teenage-demon could.

It worked. It worked for a while, actually. It worked so well that sometimes Marco and Tom would hang out without Star. It started when they exchanged cell phone numbers, shortly after his father bought him one for the ‘human tradition’ of Christmas. Marco had been talking to Tom as they walked out of their chemistry class, and had brought up the homework. Tom said he probably wouldn’t have time to do it that night in between all of his other princely duties, and Marco offered to send him the work. He didn’t mean anything other than to be a friend. A friend to Tom, who, he guessed, was now his friend.

So they would text each other sometimes. It started out about school, then about how their days went, then about if they were feeling alright. Marco had trouble with that sometimes, he could always care about people, and at this point Star and Tom meant the world to him, right alongside his parents, but there was a line. It was a fine line between what he could tell people and what he couldn’t. He could complain about having a bad day… But not about his anxiety. He didn’t want to burden anyone. He really didn’t expect anyone, especially not Tom, to care.

So Marco texted Tom about his day and Tom replied with his and his general mood and so and so forth. Eventually Tom caught on to the whole idea of video games. Marco wasn’t great at games most of the time, but it kind of excited him to have the chance to not only teach someone about them, but be good at them, too. They started gaming together. Then they started hanging out on weekends.

Star thought it was nice to see the two finally get along. Marco thought it was nice Tom had a friend. Marco thought Tom was nice, that he had been wrong about him. At some point, when the trio’s friendship had been so solidified in friendship, Marco began to really think Tom was nice. He began to notice how Tom reacted to things, and how he looked scary when he was mad but cute when he was only irritated. Marco began to like Tom. A lot.

Marco thought he was good at keeping secrets. Marco had never had a reputation for spreading rumors. Yes, Marco was adept at keeping secrets, and he thought he could keep his. Marco kept hanging out with Star and Tom and everything was so great. Marco felt at ease around the two of them, and noted how they rarely fought anymore. Tom still got angry, sure, but Star seemed to just accept this about him now that they weren’t dating. Marco didn’t really mind liking Tom, it wasn’t even painful like the TV shows made it seem. If anything, it enhanced the friendship for Marco. His feelings made him value things that happened more. Marco was incredibly okay with liking Tom.

Then, something changed. Or, rather, nothing changed, but Marco, always oblivious, noticed something. He noticed how many people Tom seemed to know now that he hadn’t known when he had come to the school. Marco noticed how Tom talked to girls, and how the girls talked to him. Even handsome boys, even not-so handsome boys, seemed to catch Tom. Sometimes for a day. Sometimes for a week. Never for long. It was kind of funny to Marco. Tom was a demon, after all. Did anyone expect him to be faithful? Marco didn’t. He knew this about Tom. He was at peace with that. If anything, it was a comfort. It was a comfort to know that Tom didn’t want Marco, because he didn’t want anyone. If anything, maybe he kept away from Marco out of respect. That’s what Marco rationalized.

Marco wasn’t a jealous person. It was hard to be jealous of people who came and went too fast, anyway. Sometimes, though, Marco wondered what it we be like to be that liked, that good. He sometimes entertained the thoughts at night, staring up at his ceiling, the reflection of the moon glinting in his brown eyes. Sometimes, a finger would wipe at a lone tear that would fall at the thought that maybe Marco didn’t mean anything at all. Sometimes, a fist would grasp his pillow in frustration that a guy like Tom could be so well-liked. Sometimes, hands would go elsewhere at thoughts of that so-well-liked demon.

Marco had been feeling so upset recently. He had thought he was okay, but sometimes it didn’t seem like. Marco hid it though, because it wasn’t a big deal. He was an angst-ridden fifteen year old with a crush on a cute promiscuous friend whom he both loved and hated for everything. No one noticed. That was good. Eventually, Marco came to peace with that, too. That Tom was better at things. If anything, it made Marco fall deeper into him. At some point, maybe, his emotions had become confused of each other and decided to just form into a torrent of love and lust for Marco’s redheaded friend.

* * *

 

One night, when thunder seemed to rattle his house and Star was fast asleep, Marco found himself tearfully trying to reach out to anything. He was terrified of thunder. Of lighting. Marco was terrified of nature in general. You can’t prepare for it, really. You can’t control it. He felt like he was going to die. Marco thought he was going to die and he was panicking. He scrolled to a familiar number on his contacts list and typed a quick, shaky, misspelled text.

A couple minutes later, Tom texted him back, asking if he was okay. Marco only half-lied. He was okay, but the thunder was terrifying him. Tom asked what he could do to help, if he could do anything. Marco didn’t know, he had never actually reached out to someone before. Talk to him? Ground him in reality?

So Tom talked to him. He texted him about what was going on and stupid memes from the internet. Then, he asked if Marco was doing better. Marco said he was, a little. He was honest, talking had distracted him from his fears just a little. Marco received a response about ten minutes later, an image. Marco opened the message, expected another outdated meme. Marco Diaz was not so lucky, however. Or perhaps he was very lucky. Marco’s eyes fell on the screen, displayed through which an underwear-clad Tom advertised his ‘ _new briefs_ ’ with a lazy smile. Marco tried to play the situation off coolly, as if he didn’t care, as if this attractive picture-he would definitely store for later, was just another picture of Shrek.

Tom texted Marco back something sassy and Marco sent back another retort. Things seemed to be going off normally. Until, around 12:00 am, Marco received another image. He opened it cautiously, if not eagerly. The image was of Tom’s hand playing at the edge of a pair of red boxers. Marco was not good at situations like this. Marco had never experienced a situation like this. Tom, however, was his friend, and if he wanted to send friendly underwear pictures… Well he could expect to receive. Marco sent a picture of himself in an exaggerated pose, captioned ‘ _super sexy, I know._ ’ Tom didn’t respond for a while.

Marco was beginning to get scared and regret what he had done when his phone buzzed. Tom had said ‘ _oml you’re so tan love me_.’ Marco didn’t really think about what he sent back. Tom had already seen him half-naked right? So, he fired off a text before he could think about it: ‘ _Already done, man_.’

He didn’t expect Tom to text back seriously. He didn’t expect himself to be honest. Marco didn’t expect Tom to return his feelings. To say he had ‘ _liked him for a while._ ’ Marco was elated that night. He felt so attractive and wanted and good. He continued talking to Tom until Tom fell asleep and didn't think to act on his doubts. To ask Tom what he meant. What that confession meant for either of them.

Marco did remember to text Tom in the morning. He wanted to know what this meant. Did Tom… want to get together? Maybe Marco was special enough to be more than a friend? Maybe, Marco entertained, he was special enough to keep.


	2. I said I'm Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco keeps on falling back in and breaks his own rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'm really sorry for any mistakes!  
> Also, thanks for the positive feedback <3 <3

Marco shouldn’t have gotten excited. He shouldn’t have expected so much from Tom. He shouldn’t have expected anything like that from Tom. He was so mad at himself. Tom didn't label, Marco should have known that. He was just another friend that Tom "liked." He figured he wanted a romantic element Tom couldn't provide. 

Marco cried that morning. Then he worked on calculus until he calmed down, math was his rock sometimes. The day passed without event, and though he was bitter, he managed to be okay enough to do homework and interact with Star and his family. His phone buzzed sometime at 8:30 that evening. He didn’t plan on reading the message, he was busy and he didn't really want to talk to anyone. He couldn't resist when the message lit up the screen, though. He hated leaving messages unread. Marco felt himself hoping that it was from Tom, but it wasn't. It was from Star, out of the house with a friend. She seemed very excited. Tom was taking her out to lunch tomorrow. Marco texted her back: ‘ _great :)._ ’

So much for a free spirit who didn't like labels. Tom just appeared to be selective of them.

Marco was so mad for still liking Tom, for still wanting him whatever the cost… When Tom couldn’t even say he wanted Marco to be anything more. He had just said he was sorry. Like he knew what he was doing. Like he knew what he did. He felt betrayed, but Marco was good at keeping secrets. He could keep this one, too.

That night Marco cried, too much. He felt so angry and broken. Tears stained his pillow and reminded him of how desperate he was. His entire life he had feared rejection, and this seemed like the worst kind. It was confusion. As a kid, everything appeared black and white. If two people liked each other, they started dating. They didn't take the other's friend on a date. They didn't start going out with another person after a confession like that. It wasn't fair. Even after all this, Marco still felt for Tom. Marco was sad, though, desperately sad. He stared up at the pale ceiling and wondered if he could accept this.

Marco went to school the next day, and Star had a ‘ _fantastic_ ’ date with Tom. Marco figured that’s how it went, though. He didn’t bring it up with Tom again. Marco tried to ignore him and behave as mean as his anger wanted him to, but he couldn’t. Marco texted Tom all week, and ended up going over to Tom’s house on Saturday for a sleepover.

* * *

Tom’s “house” was less like a house and more like a mansion in Hell. A big, scary, dark mansion in Hell full of demons and god knows what. Tom was polite, though, and let Marco in and showed him around. Tom’s parents weren’t around. Apparently, they never were.

The entire visit, it felt as though Marco was shadowing Tom throughout his day, which was surprisingly busy. Apparently, his parents tended to neglect their own duties and leave them on Tom and the servants. As demons of pride and lust respectively, they tended to give in to their whims. Seeing the way Tom had to work kind of made Marco sorry for being mad at him. He didn’t really understand what his life was like at all.

The day slipped by fairly fast, and soon Tom was allowed to go back into his ‘chambers’ with Marco. Tom hadn’t really planned anything for them to do, so they ended up talking well into the night. At around eleven, Marco caught a mischievous glint in Tom’s eyes.

Tom’s parents kept a stash of demon liquor, which Tom was planning on pushing onto the ‘safe kid.’ Marco was reluctant, but only just so. He was determined to win Tom over, even now. Even if that meant breaking a few of his own rules.

That night, Marco concluded that alcohol was amazing. He hadn’t felt so happy and free in a long while, it seemed. Marco really liked drinking with Tom. They talked, and fucked around with magic, and even sent drunk texts to Star. Marco figured that she must have known, but he didn’t really care. He giggled at the thought of himself breaking any rules, much more so at the act of drinking.

The two boys had been sitting next to each other on Tom’s bed listening to some band that Marco didn’t recognize. It sounded human, something considerate for Tom to play, considering that Demon musical tastes mainly consist of various screams. Marco scooted closer to Tom gradually until his arms were wrapped tightly around the demon’s torso. It was a questionable decision, but Marco could hardly do much questioning.

Marco felt something fall off the bed as he clumsily wrapped his leg around Tom. He immediately began to apologize, issuing a string of “I’m sorry” and “oh god.” Marco was pretty sure he was crying, actually. He felt the tears run down his face and subsequently moved to hide away from Tom. Marco didn’t like being a sad drunk, but he couldn’t stop apologizing. Before he knew it, every conversation was ended with a request for forgiveness.

Gradually, though, Marco began to calm down and moved back into Tom’s space. Very much into Tom’s space, in fact. Marco found himself clumsily crawling into Tom’s lap, yearning for his warmth and touch and, just, Tom. At some point, when Marco was too drunk to remember, Tom must have called him cute. It made Marco feel so warm and fuzzy. Marco had felt wonderful.

Marco began to feel sort of sleepy and let his head fall to Tom’s shoulder. On its way down, however, his lips barely brushed Tom’s own. Marco shot up instantly, letting an awkward laugh pierce the quiet. Marco began saying something like “oh jeez,” “sorry,” or “oh god!” Most likely, it was a combination of all three. As Marco stumbled out awkward, drunk apology after another, Tom grasped his face and pulled him close.

“Shut up.”

Marco decided he liked it when Tom told him to shut up. Whenever Marco apologized or freaked out, Tom would tell him, forcefully, to shut up and then begin kissing him again. The dominant action sent shivers down Marco’s spine.

Marco doesn’t necessarily remember that entire night. He and Tom made out for a little while. Tom gave Marco quite a few interesting bruises, as well. At some point, in between moments of lucidity and complete blurriness, Tom had reached his hand between the two, palming Marco through his pajama pants. Tom had laughed at Marco’s loud noises, but had called them cute.

Eventually though, Marco asked something that Tom couldn’t just ignore or brush off with a kiss. Marco had been wondering the entire time, or rather in periods of clear mind, what he meant to Tom. If, to Tom, Marco was not just another boy come and gone.

Tom couldn’t really give a straight answer, and maybe that’s what hurt the most. Tom kept apologizing, telling Marco not to cry… But he didn’t reach out. Marco moved away from Tom to the far end of his bed, his eyes closed tight to keep tears from pouring out. It didn’t work. When Tom asked him if he was crying, Marco lied. He didn’t want Tom to feel bad because he was being too emotional.

When Marco fell asleep, in tears, on the far right side of Tom’s bed, it almost seemed like Tom didn’t care. He, at least, didn’t show it if he did.

The next morning, Marco pretended like he didn’t remember anything that happened the night before. Tom told him that they ‘made out, and maybe a little more.’ Tom prided himself on the fact that he never forgot anything that happened while drunk. Marco told himself that he could just pretend like he did. Tom didn’t want Marco to tell Star, and Marco could respect that.

He left Tom’s house feeling an odd mixture of guilt and elation. On one hand, he had tremendously fucked up and messed around with a demon who had a girlfriend who was his best friend. On the other hand, Marco had been adventurous for the first time in his life, and it felt good. For some reason, Marco kind of prided himself on being wanted be Tom at all. Tom had kissed him and called him cute and touched him. Marco wanted that to continue, even if it meant that they would both have to be drunk. That desire gradually turned morose, as well.

When he got home and saw Star, Marco felt a wave of guilt crash over him. He was awful and he had done something awful. He texted Tom apology after apology because, well clearly, he couldn’t apologize to Star. Marco spent the entire evening fretting over his phone and himself. He wanted booze.

That night after considering it for a while, Marco told Tom that he had lied when he said he didn’t remember. He told Tom that he was sorry and that, if he was honest, he wouldn’t mind it happening again. Tom said that he ‘didn’t regret it,’ but he didn’t want to hurt his relationship with Star. Otherwise, Tom didn’t seem phased. Why should he? It could almost make Marco laugh at this point.

Marco could see that Tom was torn though, even if it was barely, between a friend and a girlfriend. Marco knew what was best for the both of them, and more so for Star. Marco would make it easy. Taking steady breaths and numbing himself to thought by rolling over in his head a million times, he texted Tom.

_‘it didn’t happen’_

In Marco’s mind, it felt like an agreement. He was sorry, they shook hands, and it was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst? Caaa~aaan do!  
> ((I'm also sorry that the fic is written in a sort of stream-of-thought way. I rarely have motivation to write, and stopping to fill in the blanks and add setting elements could completely drain me of will to write.))


	3. Supernumerary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco and Tom don't get along like they used to, but Marco's been finding new things that interest him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's short because I have to do things that don't include writing, but I got my inspiration back.  
> I apologize if my writing style changed- it's been a while.

It had been months since what happened. Since then, Marco had experienced many different emotions. It started with the fact that Marco didn't know what to do about ' _Star and Tom_.' He had told Tom to forget about what they did, and Marco certainly tried but he still felt an attachment to what that night had felt like. Marco would give anything for it to happen again. He loved when Tom held him or said his name. He loved when Tom kissed him. At the same time, though, Marco felt like it wasn't right. Not just because of Star, but because of how it happened. Marco began to think that he wouldn't have done that if he were sober. Marco began to shut off a little more and shut down a little more.

Daily, Marco tried to care about his friends. He made jokes and asked about how they were doing. He tried to take interest in classes, but he kept zoning out. He couldn't focus on the words of the teacher when his own head was full of so many doubts, most about Tom. He started slacking on his homework, texting Tom or sleeping instead. Sometimes he didn't even do that, he just stared at his ceiling. He felt like he cared less and less about anything. He still loved his friends, though. He still loved Star. He... He _loved_ Tom. He became candid with it, too. Only over text. He would always say each night, " _I love you. Be safe._ " He figured that even though Tom wouldn't return his feelings, he could at least show Tom he cared. Tom worried Marco. Ever since he came to the human world, he was quick to pick up human vices, and Marco was sure he did just about all of them he could. Marco worried Tom would get too stressed one day and just... Yeah, Marco worried.

Nightly, Marco dreamed about Tom. On nights he didn't dream about Tom, he wished he had. Sometimes, when he was alone in his room and bored and he didn't know what to say, Marco would just send pictures to Tom. Marco began to actually feel pretty proud of them. Marco could be really attractive. He could be really sexy, and he wanted Tom to know. He wanted Tom's attention, any way he could. At the same time, Marco tried to be more like Tom. He tried to be as casual as possible. Sometimes it succeeded, but sometimes his emotions got a hold on him. 

One night, he truly argued with Tom. He had opened up before; he told him everything. Tom always told Marco he  _liked him_ , but Marco had doubts. Marco rarely asked why Tom never wanted to hang out. Marco rarely asked why Tom never wanted to talk. Why he never replied but still said " _Hi_ " when he picked up Star. Marco just wanted to know. He wanted to know why he felt so bad. He wanted to let Tom know that he was mad sometimes. Mad that Tom did ignore him, did put him second to Star. One night, Marco snapped.

Tom had broken up with Star, and neither told Marco. Marco had still thought they were dating long after they broke up. When Marco found out he just felt hurt. He thought, he had retained the innocent thought that maybe, just maybe, after they went their separate ways, Marco could have a turn. Then Marco got well and truly mad. He felt used. He felt so overlooked. He screamed and cried in his room, all alone. Then he texted Tom and simply asked why they couldn't have something. Tom said they never would. 

Marco didn't understand. Tom liked him. He said he liked him. He said he liked him whenever Marco asked, because Marco needed reassurance. All Marco could ask was " _why?"_ All night, he stayed up demanding to be told  _why._ He got angry then sad then angry again and- and finally, Tom told him. Marco thought he couldn't hurt more. He thought he couldn't hurt anymore than he did but Marco was wrong. All it took was one text. 

_"I haven't liked you for a little while. I just couldn't tell you."_

Marco wanted to die. He felt sick and embarrassed. All those texts. All the pictures. All of the so obvious doubt and need. It was everything Marco feared about people. That they all just pretended to like him. That he wasn't liked at all. Marco cried that night, and dreamed of Tom.

* * *

 

Suddenly, a couple of days of moping later, Marco came to a realization. Marco couldn't _make_ Tom like him. If Tom didn't like him, that was just how it was. It was better if Tom didn't like him. This way, they could both just accept it and move on. Marco got along with his friends a little bit more, because they did like him. He tried to believe that they liked him. Marco accepted that Tom didn't like him at all. Marco didn't expect attention and he didn't receive it. He was okay with this, because it was so much less confusing. It was all copacetic, no grey areas anymore. Marco was okay, finally. 

Marco didn't pick back up on his school work, though. He had lost motivation. Instead he talked to friends, took cute pictures and tried to rebuild his confidence. He even tried to maintain a healthy, friendly relationship with Tom. It worked. Everything worked. School didn't even bother him. After slacking once, Marco didn't fear repercussions at all anymore. Marco had changed, but in a way, it was for the better. It wasn't like he wasn't anxious at all, Marco was just more zen with the situation. He accepted everything.

That pretty much fell apart when Tom texted him about a party. It all felt wrong. Tom said he wanted Marco there, but Tom wasn't supposed to text Marco or want him to come to a party. Tom wasn't supposed to like him at all.  _Did he change his mind? Did he forgive him?_ Marco didn't know, but he said yes anyway. Parties weren't Marco's thing, but there would be booze and new people to meet and maybe get attention from. He figured that at the very least, it would be something to do on a Friday night. It could be fun. Marco could be fun.

Marco still tried to maintain the whole 'acceptance' thing, but it was getting messy. It was acceptance, but bitter at that. He wanted to go the party and drink. He wanted a cigarette. He kind of needed to just loosen up. He told himself he needed to party a little more, get out a little more. He told his friends about his plans and they had mixed reactions. Since his thing with Tom, Marco had gotten some different friends.  Ferguson was friends with some people from band so they became Marco's friends too. They weren't really  _bad_ , they were just  _selectively obedient to the law._ Marco liked them. They supported his new found free spirit.

As the party got closer and closer, Marco got more anxious and more excited. It was the perfect chance to show Tom that he was over him and that he had changed. The night of the party, however, Marco stayed home. He couldn't do it. He couldn't see Tom. At first he felt bad. He began to feel as sad as he had when he had argued with Tom. He didn't want to feel that bad ever again. Instead, he opened up a drawer and dug out something one of his new friends had given him. He didn't have a bad night at all. He felt restful, and peaceful, and elated. He played music and stared at the ceiling, looking at all the intricate patterns. He accepted Tom. He accepted everything. Nothing was as bad as it seemed. Marco was numb.

He didn't need Tom's parties. He had his own drugs.

* * *

Marco began to  _self medicate,_ if you will. Not daily, but almost every other night. It was just relaxing. He would open his new favorite drawer and sit back. He played bands he had never listened to before. He listened to slow, electronic sounds. They sounded so much clearer than ever before. He learned the words to some songs and when those songs played he would mouth along to the words. Sometimes he would mumble, sometimes he would sing. He was so much more numb to the pain of Tom. Whenever he felt upset about anything, the drawer would open. The music would play. Marco would zone out of life and into his own private dream. He didn't care about anyone then. It felt wonderful.

It even began to affect him when he wasn't necessarily  _using._ He could just remain calm about his sadness. He knew he wouldn't feel sad forever, because the drugs stopped that. Some people liked Marco more after this new ritual formed. He was calmer and cooler. He was more fun. He loved it, but he still felt bad somewhere deep inside. Whenever he wasn't high, he felt like something was sitting in his stomach. He didn't tell anyone. At some point, he had said the wrong thing to Star. She said he was always too negative lately. So he stopped telling people when he felt bad. He carried it around with him and he knew it was attached to Tom.  _It wasn't worth thinking about, talking about._

When Marco wasn't getting things from his new friends, he longed for the burning warmth of alcohol. He tried to talk to Tom about getting him some, but there was some difficulty in that considering neither wanted Star to know. His parents would also undoubtedly take an issue with it. Marco tried not to form bad habits, but he had been different lately. When Tom felt down or stressed he would sometimes say "I need a drink." Marco sort of started saying it too, and he pretty much meant it. A good thing Tom did for Marco was introduce him to the wilder pleasures of life, and he appreciated it.

When Ferguson invited him to a get together (with alcohol, of course) at his friend's house, Marco couldn't refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect the next few chapters soon, but please be ready for some very cathartic stuff. I think I know where I'm going with this so hopefully the next updates will be within a few days of each other.  
> The support I've gotten on this work has been wonderful. Thank you so much!


	4. On Your Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco tells the truth when he drinks and he tells it to Ferguson. It wasn't okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things before you read:  
> Firstly, the chapter title is a reference to New Gods and that song is the bomb- esp. if you're struggling with something. I've even sent it to friends just to show I care, so please check it out.  
> Secondly, this chapter is one of the reasons I added the official archive warning. No one is raped in this chapter. There is no violence or graphic descriptions of rape, but I know that different things can trigger different people. What unfolds in this chapter might remind a reader of an experience they had and if you don't think you can handle that I absolutely understand.  
> If you want to get a sort of summary about the general feel of the chapter, I would suggest listening to the title song.

The day of the get-together had gone smoothly. It would only be Marco, Ferguson and two others, and Marco couldn't wait. He preferred a small group over a large one, anyway. Marco waited with Ferguson and his friend Caleb for one of the other attendees, Stephen, to pick them up. The car ride was fun, each swapping stories and generally being excited about the whole thing. They played songs and Marco found he got along with Caleb and Stephen quite well. During lulls in conversation, though, he looked out of the tinted window of car, watching trees and stores and homes pass by. He felt  _off_ , but he always felt off these days. Marco tried not to sulk.

Stephen's house was big. It was beautiful, too, and Marco felt the need to compliment nearly everything he saw. Stephen's parents were home, but the group decided not to open bottles until they were asleep. Until then, they played card games and ate dinner. Marco got to meet Stephen's parents, who seemed nice. They talked about school and caught each other up on the latest "news," if you could call it that. It was fun for a while, but Marco was getting impatient and so was everyone else. Stephen retrieved the vodka and juice as well as some shot glasses. This was what Marco came for.

It was around 9:00 when the drinks came out. They started off by mixing, but gradually each boy got more tolerant for the taste. Well, not Ferguson, which didn't surprise anyone. Marco, however, could slam shots like a pro- or so he discovered. He was the first one to give up on mixing.  _You don't drink for taste- you drink to drink!_ By his forth shot in, he was already feeling it. By 9:30, Marco was slammed, Ferguson was a little more than buzzed, and Stephen and Caleb were still barely phased. Despite the difference in intoxication, everyone still got along.

The night seemed to go by in a blur of laughter and some (lighthearted) drunken violence. Mainly just big bear hugs that were probably tight enough to bruise. Caleb and Stephen were kissing and enjoying themselves with their high alcohol tolerance and Marco and Ferguson enjoyed tumbling around. Marco was definitely the most  _blatant_ of the group. He must have hit his head five? six? times on something or someone or another. At one point, the group of teenagers attempted to initiate a game a drunken hide and seek. Marco was a little bit down the hall from Stephen's room when he registered that there were lights on in the house. In a fit of panic he had whispered into Stephen's ear. 

Stephen had tried to tell Marco to just act sober, but before he could, Marco took off running down the hall back into Stephen's room. In his stupor, it occurred to him to hide so that Stephen's parents didn't see that they were drinking. So, he clumsily rolled across Stephen's bed and fell onto the floor furthest from the door to the room. _That left a bruise for a couple of weeks._ Then, after falling to the floor, Marco crawled under the bed and breathed in a way he thought was quiet. Shortly after, his friends discovered him. Ferguson peeked his head under the bed and fell into a fit of laughter. Eventually, with some coaxing and convincing him that he was not in trouble, Marco emerged from his "hiding" spot.

The night went on like this. Drinking, laughing, playing, running into things. Marco drunk texted one of his new-found friends, Nick. Nick had a girlfriend, but he treated Marco very kindly, which Marco liked a lot. He was supportive of Marco's overly affectionate texts, anyway. Later, at some time that evening, Marco must have thrown up at least eight times in the bathroom.  _With his pants down, in front of Stephen._ Marco was an emotional drunk, but with friends around he was able to be kept from the worst of those sobbing moments. The group remained lighthearted and downright giggly for a while. 

He didn't even see the outburst coming. It wasn't even an outburst- at first. At some point, Stephen was touching? people's butts- he wasn't sure. Marco couldn't really absorb what was actually happening in the moment, but he took the opportunity to teach an important lesson about "consensual touching." It started off as a warning, then as panicked begging and then great, hiccuping sobs. He didn't know why at that time and his friends certainly didn't either. He had registered concerned looks and words, and someone tried to reach out and-  _absolutely not._  Marco tried to avoid any and all touches as he began to cry. He had heard someone say 'shhhh,' in a comforting sort of way, which for some reason struck a nerve. Marco couldn't control his mouth at that moment and began babbling on about how no one should make that sound because it made him sad and- Ferguson interrupted his rambling at some point. He told him they should talk about this.

The room quieted down when Ferguson sent the other two friends out of the room. Marco had climbed down to the floor where Ferguson sat and began to clumsily tell Ferguson about everything.

Grasping his friend's knees and periodically crying, Marco explained as well as he could the situation with Tom- not mentioning Tom's name, of course. He told Ferguson about how he had wanted it- something from Tom, but how the situation seemed wrong. He told Ferguson about how he couldn't stop being bothered about it. He told Ferguson how sad it made him, all the while Ferguson comforted him through his sobbing and drunkenly offered nods and attempts and soothing sounds. After Marco had vented his fears and sadness, his friend spoke. He grasped Marco's knees tightly and looked into his eyes and said something Marco never wanted to believe or think or experience. He told Marco that Tom had raped him.

All Marco could do was scream and cry and tell Ferguson that he was wrong. His friend was adamant, however, and told him that it was okay. He said it wasn't Marco's fault and it didn't make Marco a bad person. Marco didn't want to believe that though because in his mind, rape was something that had to be violent. _Even though Marco was drunk he had wanted it, hadn't he? Would he have done it if he were sober? Was that why Marco suddenly didn't like to "shhh'ed" anymore?_ All Marco could do was cry. If it was true, then Marco was a victim. More than that, he was a victim to someone he trusted. He didn't want to feel that way. It felt like everything was closing in and for a while he felt like he couldn't breathe.  _Tom wasn't a bad person. He didn't mean to do what he did._ At the same time though, Marco agreed with Ferguson. 

The boys continued the party and Marco quickly and briefly forgot the exchange. Eventually he passed out- after Stephen had given him some sleeping medication. When he woke up on Stephen's bed, he had found all of the other boys in the living room. _They must have knocked him out so he didn't continue running into things._ Marco didn't get hang overs and he remembered a pretty good bit of what happened the night before. He laughed in embarrassment at the recollection of some of the things he did. The interaction with Ferguson, however, left a knot in his stomach. He called his mom before anyone else woke up and left before breakfast. 

* * *

Marco spent the next few weeks alternating on his viewpoints on what happened. On one hand, Marco didn't think Tom meant to hurt him. If anything, he thought, it was his fault he got so drunk, right? But on the other, trust was violated and so was he. It wasn't consensual- that's for sure. Either way, Marco resolved to tell no one. No one needed to think badly of Tom and no one needed to feel bad for Marco- he was pretty sure Ferguson forgot anyway. Gradually, Marco began to accept that what happened was technically rape. It explained a lot of how he felt. He didn't want to be a victim though, so he just kept it to himself and tried to downplay it a lot.  _It was rape- but at least it wasn't violent. It wasn't the worst case scenario. There's no need to be dramatic._ Marco didn't need to victimize himself, he was strong. He could be strong.

He told himself this mantra for weeks on end as he grew to accept what happened as rape. Calling it that, however, wasn't enough to make Marco stop wanting Tom. Marco wasn't sure what set it off. Maybe it was that every little thing reminded Marco of Tom. Maybe it was a post on Facebook of Tom with a new boyfriend. Maybe it was Tom seeing Marco everyday. He felt bad- all the time. Some days it was anger, some days bitterness, some days complete heartbreak. Even when he wasn't thinking of Tom, Marco felt a rock in his stomach. It felt like a weight he carried everywhere, even when he was happy.

He opened his favorite little drawer almost nightly, just to keep from hearing Tom in his head. When he was on anything, Marco didn't care about Tom. He could even accept what had happened to him. When he was high, Marco could call Tom a bad friend. He could say it was Tom's fault, too. When he was high, Marco almost didn't feel bad about Tom at all. There was still that weight though, sometimes when it got too quiet. When the wrong song played that reminded Marco of Tom. Marco supposed he was always sad when he was high, but he was numb, too. He was numb enough not to care that he was sad. 

Marco began to accept the new weight he had to carry.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize, as stuff happened since November that also caused me to add this chapter and the archive warning.  
> I should be open with readers that I am working through a real experience, and that changes in the work will reflect that.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


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